


A Girl Borne of a Trickster

by CrimsonLoner



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Blood Drinking, Child Loss, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Human Sacrifice, Implied miscarriage, Magic, Miscarriage, My First Work in This Fandom, Prophetic Visions, Revelations, Slavery, Violence, kindof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonLoner/pseuds/CrimsonLoner
Summary: Summary: Living within a small hamlet off the coast of North Umbria, Marian’s world as a whole is both small, and boring. She feels out of place, like a snowstorm during the middle of Summer; a girl of ten, that asks too many questions, and dreams of things that many deem ridiculous and unbelievable. Though she wished it wasn’t so, she knew she would be resigned to this small world till the end of her life.Or, so she had believed.





	A Girl Borne of a Trickster

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys; so, decided to re-write this fanfic, and I actually really like how the new first chapter came out. I'm sorry for the wait, but I feel like this is a better start, considering I changed the plot for this story as well. Not too much, the only real change is that Magic and Divine intervention (well, in regards to the Norse Pantheon), is more acknowledged and taken seriously. 
> 
> Anyway, just so that no one gets confused, where the character grew up is near where the Kingdom of Lindsey once was stated to be, before it merged with North Umbria, so more near Mercia and Wessex.

Chapter One: Thurisaz; Danger, Suffering

A firm slap to her hand, startled Marian back to awareness; she took in her still hands, thread and needle held carelessly, before meeting her mother’s reproachful glare. Taking in the older woman’s pinched expression, Marian could only offer up a weary apology before starting anew with her given task.

“Don’t get lost in your head now: _focus_.” irritation practically dripped from her mother’s lips, though Marian wouldn’t hold it against her. This had been the fifth time in a row that Marian had gotten distracted, and her mother’s patience ran only so much. She couldn’t help it, honest; sleep had chosen to allude her for the past two weeks, ever since her monthly cycles had first started.

Her mother had been a touch surprised, not having expected her daughter to bleed until another summer had gone by, possibly two. But, of course this just had to be another thing that Marian was left out in; from what she could pry from other girls her age, they hadn’t started theirs yet. Marian hated her cycles, they were painful and messy; but what she hated the most, was the recurring nightmare that came with it.

That was the main reason Marian was unable to catch a moment's rest; she had believed that it would end once her cycle had, but alas, it still continues to harass her. So, she tried to avoid sleep all together, with the result being her current exhausted state. Marian tried telling her mother, even going into detail of the contents of her nightmare, but all she had done was give Marian a fearful look, and told her never to speak of it again. Her mother even went in-so-far as to drag her to the village’s small chapel and ordered her to pray for her soul. So, Marian hadn’t bothered to bring it up again; keeping her mouth shut, and suffered in silence for her mother’s peace of mind.

A sharp exhale had Marian, once again, snapping out of a daze; tired eyes once again meeting her mother’s glare and tight face. Her mother snatched the sad excuse for embroidery from Marian’s limp hands, before barking at her, “_Go feed the chickens!_”

Marian refrained from reminding her mother that they had just recently done so, and instead took the opportunity her mother had given her. Marian stumbled her way out of their humble abode, and made her way towards the chicken coop, a bag of feed in her scrawny arms. After entering the flimsy structure, and tossing a handful of feed onto the grimy floor, Marian found herself yawning; her eyes turning heavy with sleep. 

She tried fighting off the creeping sensation of slumber, but found she no longer had the will to. After finding a slightly cleaner spot, with few chicken droppings and a decent amount of hay, Marian made herself comfortable before stilling and blinking drowsily._ ‘I’ll just rest my eyes.’_

_**Sleep, Min Sol**_. The Voice had returned; another thing that had plagued her mind, aside from the nightmare. Though where she feared the dream, the Voice was more of a comfort then anything; something she had also withheld from her mother, lest the woman start assuming witchcraft. 

Though she had, at first, tried blocking out the Voice she was never able to hold out. So, though Marian once again attempted to fight off the lulling command, she was unsuccessful; and with that failure, she found herself slipping into sweet oblivion.

_________________

Marian was shocked awake by a blood curdling scream. Sleep still had it’s claws at the edges of her mind, but she quickly rid herself of them when another scream, this one much more closer, rang out through the air. Feathers flew through the stale air, as Marian scrambled from the floor, startling the roosting chickens, and towards the slanted entrance of the coop.

**_WAIT_**. The Voice stopped her, leaving her frozen in place, hand midway towards the worn door. Marian found herself holding her breath, waiting for the Voice to say anything else, but her attention was quickly drawn to the sound of her mother screaming her name.

“**MARIAN**! Run! Run away---” Her mother’s voice caved in on itself, which urged Marian to peek through one of the holes that littered the walls of the chicken pen. What she saw, had a sob ripping out of her tight throat. 

A hulking figure stood just behind her mother; rugged, fair-haired and with a nauseous amount of blood covering his left side: Marian knew instantly that not a drop of it was the man’s. The sight of the stranger wasn’t what terrified her; no, what caused her burning tears was the sight of his sword plunged through her mother’s gut.

A sense of sharp _deja vu_ gripped her; she’s seen this, she’s dreamed this for the past fortnight.

‘_No, this is just a dream! A horrible dream!’_ Marian thought, but she knew deep down that it was no longer a dream, and that she was wide awake for this horror. With a gasping breath, her mother fell upon the dusty earth, clutching her split stomach with trembling fingers. With a rough kick, the hulking man sent Marian’s mother fully onto the ground, limp body strewn about like a burlap doll. Then, with a satisfied sneer, the man surveyed the surrounding area, no doubt trying to find her now.

Marian could see his mind working behind his dark eyes; _there had to be something out here, otherwise, why else would the woman run out to a dead end? _

She clapped her dirty hands to her tear-stained face, desperately trying to hold back her racking sobs as she kept an eye on the foreigner; watching as he scanned halfheartedly, before losing interest once he was met with only startled livestock and farm equipment. He eventually turned to leave, idly swinging his stained sword. But before Marian could breathe a sigh of relief, her luck ended when upon shifting her weight, the old wood chose that moment to give out. 

With an audible _crack_, her right foot fell through the floor, and a scream tore through her throat as the split wood gouged her leg. Immediately after, Marian heard face-paced footsteps coming towards her, and panic was quick to set in. That is, until the Voice decided to remind Marian of her nightmare--_**Vision, Min Sol.**_

Due to the sudden input, Marian managed to tamper down her dread, and silenced her painful whimpers by the time the stranger ripped open the coop’s door. She couldn’t withhold a spine racking tremble though, when the man’s eyes landed on her dirty, tear-stained face, but she did her best to meet him with a grim look. 

**_Repeat what I say._** The Voice commanded; Marian only swallowed in reply. Just as the man raised his weapon high, Marian opened her mouth.

_“Stoppe._” The command fell flat, for her voice was shaking too much; but the man still paused, thick brows furrowing in bafflement. He opened his mouth, but the Voice was already continuing, and Marian was quick in repeating it’s words.

“Hvis du dreper meg,” She began, tongue tripping over the foreign speech, but she saw that she had the stranger’s attention now. “Loki vil jakte deg, til din uunngåelige slutt.” 

Marian saw his grip whiten, and his expression morph into one of abject horror. She was unsure of what she had said, but somehow knew that the words would be heeded. Weapon lowered, the man began scanning her, gaze lingering on her capped head and green eyes. He suddenly reached for her cap and ripped it from her head, startling her so bad she tried leaping away, and was swiftly reminded of her trapped leg.

Hissing in pain, Marian watched the man closely as he took in the hue of her hair. His look of horror melted from his face, replaced by a look of wonder and excitement. The same look from her dream--vision--and Marian found herself still and cooperative when the man reached for her injured leg. With his bare hands, he tore the floor boards apart, and freed her leg; before she could do anything, the stranger grabbed her, and pulled her from the coop. 

**_Don’t struggle._** Marian listened, and continued to cooperate with the man, even as he procured coarse rope to tie her wrists and ankles; even as he slung her over his broad shoulder and strode past her mother’s lifeless body. One last sob wrenched past her lips, as they drew further away from her mother’s still form, and away from the only comfort that life had ever provided her.

___________________

I went for Norwegian, so....and native speakers, if you wish to correct me, go for it.

Translation(s):

(1) My Sun

(2) Stop

(3) If you kill me

(4) Loki will hound you, until your inevitable end


End file.
